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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23764381">Scared</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/scrub456/pseuds/scrub456'>scrub456</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Inksolation [4]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes &amp; Related Fandoms</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Art and Fic, Caring Sherlock Holmes, Fanart, Influenza, Inksolation, M/M, Quarantine, Sick John Watson, Sickfic</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-04-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 18:00:48</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>391</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23764381</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/scrub456/pseuds/scrub456</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock had taken stands against the worst humanity had to offer. Faced off against the most impossible of odds. But only where John was concerned did he ever feel true fear.</p><p>For Inksolation Day 20: <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23465050/chapters/57080887">SCARED</a></p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Sherlock Holmes/John Watson</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Inksolation [4]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1706410</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>74</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Isolated Johnlock Collection, Quarantine</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Scared</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>*WARNING: John is VERY ill in this story. I tried several times to add a bit of fluff, but unfortunately it all came out more "realistic." But I promise, by the end, things take a turn for the better, and I will not leave the story off here.*</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The problem wasn't that John was a bad patient. Sherlock wanted it to be that simple. He wished for the bickering and stubbornness and put upon huffing.</p><p>But John didn't grumble. There was no disgruntled sighing. No, John was an ideal patient. He was compliant, sipping the fluids Sherlock urged on him, taking the Tamiflu and paracetamol with precisely timed regularity, even submitting to a video call so Mike Stamford could prescribe an antibiotic for the worsening congestion and subsequent respiratory infection. </p><p>By the third day of restless, fevered sleep, John was lethargically pliable.</p><p>And Sherlock hated every moment. Hated John's diminished warmth and light. He missed John's willfulness and strength.</p><p>He, quite simply, missed John. And that was wrong, because John was just there, right next to him in the bed. Their bed. He was there, with Sherlock's hand stroking his hair.</p><p>But the fever continued. It cycled through steep, delirious spikes, and deceptive drops too few and too far between to bring any true reprieve. </p><p>The fever persisted a fourth day, despite Sherlock's care, and brought with it agitated febrile nightmares. Eyes glassy and unfocused, hands reaching for shadows, John cried out, his voice broken and raw.</p><p>When he called out for Sherlock, body tense with fever and fear, Sherlock's own heart broke.</p><p>He was exhausted and frustrated. And perhaps worst of all, he was scared. </p><p>Sherlock had taken stands against the worst humanity had to offer. Faced off against the most impossible of odds. But only where John was concerned did he ever feel true fear.</p><p>And he was lost, in need of the type of grounding calm he only ever felt with John at his side.</p><p>John <i>was</i> there. Right beside him, even if he wasn't really there in the moment. And John needed him.</p><p>Sherlock shifted him on the pillows, in an effort to make him more comfortable, to ease his strained breathing. He pressed a cool cloth to John's face and neck. Urged him to drink, and coaxed a few tablets into him.</p><p>And then Sherlock held him, offering the best and only comfort he knew to offer, murmuring ridiculous deductions and nonsense and declarations of devotion against John's hair.</p><p>When John's fever broke in the middle of the night, Sherlock nearly wept as he pressed gentle kisses to John's brow. </p><p>And finally they rested.</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I SWEAR. John is on his way to getting better. His bout of flu is based on my own case of H1N1 two years ago.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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